


also shall dwell

by TrekFaerie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Book Spoilers, F/M, Fix-It, Period-Typical Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could've done worse, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	also shall dwell

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Тогда волк будет жить вместе с ягненком](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503371) by [wakeupinlondon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakeupinlondon/pseuds/wakeupinlondon)



> it's show canon mixed slightly with book canon, with non-plot significant spoilers for bronn and lollys' storyline.

She's a dull girl, his Lollys.

(It's still difficult for him to think of anything as "his." A sellsword owns nothing but his weapon and his coin, but he's a sellsword no longer.)

Plain, too. But kind, kinder than that cunt queen could ever hope to be, kinder than someone who's lived her life even ought to be, in his opinion. He'd never considered himself the marrying type, but he can guess that if he'd ever tried it on his own, he would've ended up with worse.

And it could always be worse, he tells himself. She could be fat. Or pregnant.

-

The girl blushes and stutters and pushes him away, insisting on waiting 'til they're wedded. In frustration, cock pressing hard against his lordly trousers, he tells her there's other ways for men and women to know each other, ways that won't spoil her precious maidenhead.

She turns out to be a quick study. Perhaps she just needed the right subject. Or the right teacher.

-

They talk of such inane things, arm in arm, walking the grounds together for hours on end. Anyone passing by would think them young lovers. He's starting to wonder if they wouldn't be wrong.

-

He finally, _finally_ , gets the chance to tell a Lannister to fuck off and shove their offer up their arse. It feels as good as he always thought it would.

-

The cloak he puts over her shoulders is her own, but she doesn't seem to mind the break with tradition, her eyes shining and her cheeks flushed pink as they say their vows.

The pigeon is undercooked, and half the party winds up with food poisoning. Shitting their brains out, he thinks, is a proper enough punishment for every snicker he heard as she tripped over her gown on their way down the aisle.

-

They conceive after their first bedding, as if her womb had been eagerly awaiting its chance and sprung to action at the first opportunity. He tells his mother and sister-in-law over dinner that he's already decided on names. If it's a girl, Shae; if it's a boy, Tyrion.

Falyse's face turns dark as the mutton, and she leaves for King's Landing in the early morning. He doesn't mind; more leftover mutton for him.

-

He wishes he could see the cunt's face when she hears about it. Part of him hopes the real Tyrion, wherever he's gotten to, hears about it. He thinks he'd find it amusing, and feels the smallest twinge of regret.

Lollys' flesh is warm and soft, trembling in his hands and under his tongue.

He'd do it again. He'd do it a million times over, and never feel anything but her head resting against his shoulder.

-

Balman's blood. Falyse's cheek. Lollys' hair.

They warm his hand.

-

Lollys weeps-- deep, wracking sobs that shake her whole body-- at her mother's funeral. That night, she drags him to her parents' marriage bed, and rides him into the soft bedding. He calls her his lady, his Lady Stokeworth, as she comes with a strangled cry.

-

His firstborn son comes into the world with a grimace on his face, as if already aware of what a piece of shit it is and furious with the gods for forcing him into it.

He names him Tyrion, and he has never loved anyone more wholly.

-

Brains and beauty aren't everything. But, as he spins her around the empty ballroom, wincing with every misstep on his toes, he thinks that, in this dim light, she could almost be pretty.


End file.
